


Risk and Reward

by ryu-no-hakai (PrincessNiallxHoran)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Chikan, Cumplay, Dirty Talk, Genzo Zine, Incest, M/M, Redemption, train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessNiallxHoran/pseuds/ryu-no-hakai
Summary: The next step would be for Hanzo to offer himself up to strangers, but Genji is good enough to give him that 'sex with a stranger' sensation.In all fairness, Hanzo wouldn't have it any other way.





	Risk and Reward

Two and a half minutes until the next stop. Twelve minutes and some odd seconds till  **the** stop. The countdown is absolute, because if Japan’s trains are anything at all, they are punctual. Hanzo tugs at the back of the skirt he’s wearing and glances back to his reflection in the opposite window, eyeing each and every little detail before his gaze flicks back to where he holds himself steady against the aluminum pole that runs from the floor to the ceiling of the train car. The entire outfit embarrasses him. His cheeks have been burning since he boarded a little over ten minutes ago, and he swears the fabric hikes itself up on his hips each time he shifts. People don’t seem to pay him much mind -- as far as they’re probably considered, in Kyoto a man in heels, skirt, and makeup is a daily sight. Either that, or they just don’t take the time to really  _ look _ .

The train rolls into the Kitayama station at precisely nine seventeen in the evening, leaving exactly ten minutes between him and the Kitaoji station where Genji would be boarding. He focuses on his reflection again, this time on his stupidly glossy lips, sharp eyeliner, and the way his hair is drawn back out of his face with a nice ribbon. Everything in his outfit serves a purpose -- the skirt and button down blouse are to allow easy access, and the heels bridge the two inch height gap between them. But the makeup? That was all for Genji; as is the slick between his thighs and the way his hole shivers and trembles now that the plug that was stretching him is no longer nestled inside. It’s clean, washed up in the train station restroom and tucked into the purse next to a pair of clean underwear that hung from a jeweled string over his shoulder. He can feel the weight of the cool metal at his hip -- it too served as a subtle embarrassment -- he dared anyone to try and pickpocket him.

Quite a few people pile into his train car in Kitayama. For a moment he’s struck with the concern that perhaps his brother wouldn’t be able to find him, and he’d be doomed to ride the line until an awkward amount of time had passed before he had to switch and head back the way he came. He shifts a little ways away from the man nearest his right side and a little closer to the woman nearest his left to try and stay in clear line of sight.

The last ten minutes disperse faster than he anticipates. The minute warning that comes on over the speakers reminds him dutifully that they will soon be arriving in Kitaoji, and to watch his step if he uses the exit, which is located ahead of him. If he wanted, he could make a break for it. Tell Genji he chickened out. He’d be disappointed sure, and probably pissed to have wasted an entire afternoon so far away from home but -- he’d respect it. The whole situation was based on whatever the elder was comfortable, after all and --

“ _ Kitaoji Station. Exit right. _ ”

Here’s his chance -- his last moment to get out of this in one piece -- but he can’t. In all honesty, he’s not even sure if he would. He remembers the way it had been described against his ear when Genji whispered one of his most indulgent fantasies. He remembers how his toes had curled at the thought, and how he’d come into the sheets imagining all of the wicked visions that were painted in his mind’s eye.

More people get on in Kitaoji, and the air becomes a little warmer with the mingling bodies. He presses his lips together and fidgets his fingers against the aluminum. He can’t feel Genji yet -- knows his brother is probably working his way to him amidst the confusion -- and he takes this moment to shut his eyes in an attempt to steady his breathing.

A slight brush against him has his back straightening. Was it really a touch? Someone readjusting? Maybe his overactive imagination -- until it returns. Definitely a brush of a warm hand, this time firmer. Hanzo can feel knuckles dragging across the plush of his ass, testing his reaction with a careful back of the hand. His mouth suddenly feels painfully dry.  _ It’s happening _ .

He arches his back just a bit, carefully invading his brother’s space and pressing ever so slightly into the secretive touch. He can feel the way the hand shivers. He can feel how Genji trembles behind him -- feels the air sweep over the exposed skin on his neck as the younger sighs, overwhelmed. A few more tender brushes pass before the angle changes, and Hanzo can feel the width of a spread palm cupping him through the fabric, rolling and squeezing the back of skirt.

The people around them don’t even move; they don’t so much as bat an eye when the Shimada heir lets out a small moan or even rolls his hips back into the touch. There’s an appraising noise behind him, and then a familiar hand finds its way to his hip bone, index stroking over the jut at the front before it travels north, slipping over the expanse of broad stomach up to where his tits are covered by a buttoned polyester blend. Nails dig into his backside, getting a handful and groping while another works at the stubborn buttons of his blouse. Genji is sparing no time taking him apart, and he can’t really say he blames him. The longer the foreplay, the more suspicious the riders -- not as though they wouldn’t have become suspicious anyway, with the anticipated movement and noises he  _ knew _ he wouldn’t be able to contain.

Genji’s hand slips lower until his chest presses against Hanzo’s back with the newfound angle, and he strokes a deft hand along the inside of his brother’s bare thigh. He’s getting  _ close _ , tracing up below the bulge of his balls in silk panties and brushing over places that have the elder’s knees knocking together with pitiful force. Before the heir can muster a forbidden glance over his shoulder, Genji digs the pad of his middle and index fingers against the pliant opening and eases a slick stain into the fabric.

“A-ah!” It’s a little louder than he intends, his voice quivering at the sudden pressure and invasive digits. Still, despite it, no one turns to look at them, and his brat of a brother continues to push both of their luck, fucking his touch against the ring of muscle even with the satin blocking his way. The other hand that’s since freed Hanzo’s tits to the train wraps firmly around his throat instead to cut off any other sounds that might be tempted from his big brother.

“Shh.  _ Behave _ .”

Hanzo’s body stills and he falls pliant in the younger’s grip. With an approving sound near his ear, Genji withdraws his fingers and instead slips them past the band of satin between the dimples of his big brother’s ass and plunges them deep into a stretched rim.

He understands why it moves so quickly -- truly -- but he’s not being given a chance to breathe and that coupled with the hand on his throat leaves him gasping for purchase. His knuckles are white where they clasp at the pole to keep himself upright and for a long moment he doesn’t realize Genji is now fumbling to pry one of his hands free, his throat since released.

The heir bites his lip when his hand is guided back between strong thighs, where there’s a thrumming, straining cock laid bare to the riders. Hanzo quickly wraps his fingers to encase it and strokes from base to tip, losing any reservations he has of the people around him because he can barely believe the reality he’s fallen into:

Genji’s exposed himself in public; he’s got three fingers buried knuckle deep in Hanzo’s stretched hole, and at any moment, someone could shriek or shout and alert the rest of the train that something horrible is unfolding. That a man in womens’ office attire is being pushed forward and keening while fingers work him pliant and sloppy. What if they were familiar with the Shimada family? Someone could cry out that they’re  _ brothers _ , of all people, sons of wealth and scandal and all things ink and violent tradition. The idea has a wet spot smearing its way across the front of Hanzo’s satin panties.

“ _ Breathe _ .”

It’s more of a warning than anything else as Genji removes his fingers from the clutches of the elder’s hungry hole and pulls the fabric aside. There’s a moment where the air of the train brushes against the twitching muscle and he sucks in a sharp breath, aware beyond all things that now  _ he’s _ fully on display as well -- empty and vulnerable.

The blunt head presses against him insistently then, and even with the gaping space his brother slips against him a few times; slides through the wet slick and bumps the rim with just enough force to catch but not enough to breach.

Hanzo lets out another sound, this time less desperate and shaken and more demanding. He’s achingly empty and  _ needs _ what his brother is withholding. He lifts his hips and angles downward, catching the younger as he tries to make another infuriating brush against him and almost  _ laughs _ at how Genji grabs at his hips in response.

The tip is tucked neatly inside him, and he can feel his brother’s sweaty forehead at the junction of his neck and shoulder, warm breath blowing cool against his own overheated skin. His hands meet at the pole in front of him again, clasping tight, and he clenches himself at the divot of his brother’s crown in the hopes of urging him on. Another shuddering breath and then Genji’s hips are twitching forward.

Genji’s never been good at teasing his big brother or drawing things out past what his own patience will allow. He’s gotten better, but at the root of it he’s still a slave to his own desires, thumping in and out of his partners when he’s finally allowed to seat himself inside. This is no exception, and there are no complaints.

The air is punched from Hanzo’s lungs as his little brother plows forward, sheathing his entire length with little to no resistance from the elder’s body. He feels Genji pause to adjust his stance, shifting his feet forward and finding a better grip on his brother’s body before he continues. Teeth burrow into Hanzo’s shoulder and rapid thrusts claim him borderline viciously, filling him and leaving him nearly empty so that the younger can realign and force himself back in at a new angle, always seeking the button that will render Hanzo boneless and pliant. Genji knows his big brother -- he knows all the little nooks and crannies that make him see stars -- so it doesn’t take him long to seek out his target. He knows he’s found it when Hanzo bends further, arching his back to present himself so pretty and knocks his own feet a little further apart to provide more space.

And Hanzo? Hanzo  _ loves _ it. Thrives off of it. He’s stretched for a reason, and the pounding that he’s getting is nothing short of exhilarating. He’s forgetting the crowd -- forgetting the fact that they’re on a train hours from home in Kyoto. 

He swears he can hear small stutters of  _ anija _ from behind him, but that might be his own filthy imagination, carrying him back on his fantasy high of being discovered. He swears under his breath and tucks his face into his arm, letting out a keening growl against his skin as the hips rut against him.

_ Slap. Slap. Slch. Thump. Slap. Slch. _

His toes twist inward as he rides closer to the blinding light of his climax with Genji’s hands tight at his hips and fingers digging to drag his brother’s eager body back against him. It’s as though his beloved brother is simply  _ using _ him -- the merciless grip and rapidfire pace are anything but tender -- and the mere  _ thought _ of that being true for even a moment has another mess of precum smearing against the satin.

It seems they’ve both lost any self awareness for their position as his little brother releases a hip and hooks an arm under his knee, spreading Hanzo even further in the cramped space. There are definitely eyes on them now -- gazes that mark the elder and have him tucking his face a little tighter into his elbow, red-faced and humiliated. Despite it -- or perhaps because of it -- his cock seems to swell a little thicker, grow a little closer to bursting, and Hanzo lets out a pleading sob.

“ _ They’re watching you _ ,” it’s a hiss from behind, where Genji hunches his back to get as close to Hanzo as he can in their new position, hips still jack-rabbiting in and out of the elder, “ _ some of them look hungry. Probably want to feel where you’re all soft and wet. Maybe I’ll let them have my sloppy seconds when I’m done with you _ .”

That’s the straw that breaks him, his back arching in desperation as he comes untouched in his panties, warm and wet and seeping through the expensive fabric. Judging by the way Genji yelps, how he sucks in his breath and stutters his hips, he can feel just how hard it rocks him. It’s embarrassing -- they’ve only been like this for a little over ten minutes, and he doesn’t think he’s ever gone over the edge so hard so quickly. The warning robotic voice advises them of the upcoming stop -- two minutes till arrival.

Genji’s remaining hand releases his bruised hip, reaching up to wrap  _ tight _ in his elder brother’s tied hair and twists it around his fist. Suddenly Hanzo can’t hide from his audience. His back is pulled bow string tight and throat bobs tense with each swallow he can’t quite complete while the younger chases his own release with low growls and sharp bites. The sounds of possession and sensation of teeth don’t quite register in the fuzzy moment Hanzo is in, rather it feels like something far away, pinging against the cloud of his afterglow and rendering him soft and boneless.

After a few moments have passed he can hear the riders whispering around him -- some words of disgust, but others of envy. Hanzo makes eye contact with a wide eyed young woman, an office girl of some kind, but she licks at her lip and averts her gaze to where he’s joined with his lover before even a moment has passed between them. He can’t help but wonder what’s racing through her mind -- is she envious? Disgusted? Slick? His mind drifts, thoughts racing to what she might be imagining behind the cover of her intrigued expression.

Genji’s desperation finally peaks and he ruts in  _ deep _ , deep enough that Hanzo startles and stumbles forward a beat -- and has to rearrange his grip on the pole so as not to stumble over altogether -- not that his brother or the grip in his hair would let him. He can’t feel himself filling up, rather he can feel the younger pulsating against the ring of his ass, and he lets out a weak noise when the slick shaft withdraws, leaving him twitching and open to the train.

Those who have decided against watching the act have since gone on with their day -- a weird apathy Hanzo had assumed only existed in blurry pornos -- but those who  _ have _ interest are still eyeing them without pause. For a moment, there’s a genuine concern that they  _ might _ try to steal sloppy seconds, and he finds a weird sense of intrigue behind it. He’s not allowed to think on it too long before Genji is pressing a thumb just past his rim, hooking it in and stretching him open. When a trickle of warm slick teases its way down his balls he’s trembling with the shame of being so open on display. Genji just hums behind him, thumbing in and out against the soft skin for a moment before he’s making a broken demand.

“The plug.”

A moment of fumbling later has the pretty jeweled piece holding the mess safely inside him. Not once does he look at Genji -- not once does he acknowledge who it is. That’s part of the adventure.

At the next stop, he exits as his brother stays. He cleans himself up in the station bathroom -- discards the panties in a bin and slips on the extra pair from the bag at his hip.

 

**One way: Dest Hanamura**

**¥ 1050**

**Thank you for choosing Japanese National Railways**

**Author's Note:**

> This was my piece for the Genzo Zine run by Mujaween. <3 So happy to have helped contribute to the ILGA with my fellow co-creators!!


End file.
